Visiting a Friend
by LeoN WiNgsteiN
Summary: Just a little bit of infected!Leon AU, post-RE6. A series of short, individual stories/drabbles centered around a common AU timeline. Based off of impalallama's drawings on tumblr.
1. Helena

Helena parked her car and walked slowly into the small, discarded-looking building on the edge of the town. It was a derelict place, not much of anything, really. She used the smallest key on her key ring to unlock the master lock that was clamped on the small door on the side of the building.

The door swung open easily, and she strode inside and flicked on the light switch. The room was illuminated by the bare, single bulb in the middle of the room. She closed the door behind her and pocketed her keys. The dust swirled around her, visible in the low light of the room. She saw the bed on the edge of the room, without any covers, just a double mattress. Toward the other side of the room was some shelving. Other than that, the room was very bare. It was open, and took up most of the building. Lots of space.

Helena heard a noise from behind her and whipped around, looking for its source. It always put her on edge, coming here, at least when she first got there. It was all still so strange to her. Everything was so different, now…

Another low moan caused her to turn around, whipping her head toward the sound. Her hand went instinctively to her holster, but she mentally checked herself and left the gun to itself. There was no need for that. She was just tense. Her thoughts, for a fleeting moment, flashed back to her sister, Deborah, and how she had failed her, how she had let her become what she had become…

Helena shook those thought away. They were no help to her now. The past was the past, and dwelling on it didn't help her in her current situation. She took a step toward where she had heard the noise come from, and saw nothing but more dust particles, lazing through the air. Another slight moan, a tiny creak on the linoleum floor, and she turned around.

She found herself facing a seven foot tall monster, with grotesque claws and large, fleshy wings that drooped down to the floor behind it. Its mouth hung open slightly, revealing sharp fangs. Helena put a hand to its cheek, lightly brushing away some of its hair. She gave a slight smile. "Hello, Leon," she said. "It's so good to see you're doing well."

"Helena…" replied Leon, his dull yellow eyes brightening slightly at the sound of her voice. His hand, deformed into something of a claw, moved to her shoulder. His mouth tugged into something of a grin.

Helena took a step back from him and paced slightly around the room. "Leon, so much has been going on, I can't wait to tell you." She turned to him. He hadn't moved, he was just following her with his eyes. "The BSAA has been in contact – or, at least, Chris has, and apparently cleanup efforts are coming along really well." She wandered over to the bed. "How's this mattress doing for you?" She saw the large indent in the middle of it, where he must have been sleeping. "I'll bring you a new one next time I come. Those 'wings' of yours carry most of your weight, I swear."

She turned and walked back toward him, and he flared his wings up, to their full wingspan, reaching across much of the room. His mouth opened in an effort to talk, or so it seemed to Helena, and she smiled. "Yes," she said, "I see, they are big, yeah." She walked closer and stroked his wing softly as he gently coiled them back in, and settled down into a crouch. He looked so small, despite his monstrous size, and his threatening features. She thought again of Deborah and caught herself.

"Sherry sends her best, too," she said. "She wanted to come with me, and bring a friend, too, but I wouldn't let her." Leon's eyebrows raised, almost asking her, "why not?"

"Don't give me that look," said Helena. "You know why I can't. Yeah, it's just her, but the less people who know where you are, the better." She looked at her friend, who had been turned into a bio-organic weapon. "The less people that know _what_ you are, the better."

"Sher-ry…" said Leon, struggling with the words.

"Yeah," said Helena. "Plus, judging by what you told me about Raccoon City, I'm not sure she'd want to see you in your… condition. I mean, after her father…" And yet, Helena thought of Deborah. She pushed the thoughts aside.

"It won't be long before they put me back out in the field again," said Helena, tracing the slight spikes on the top of Leon's wings. "And I won't be able to visit as often." Leon let out a soft moan. "I know," she said, "but your girlfriend's still out there, and there are plenty of other threats out there, threats that need to be dealt with-"

Leon let out a screech, and Helena had to cover her ears. He rose to his full stature and towered over Helena. A fire burned in his yellow eyes. Helena took a step back, her hand instinctively finding its way to her holster again. She had to stop herself for pulling her handgun out. She thought of her sister, and she wouldn't let herself make those mistakes again.

"Shh," she said, placing a hand on Leon's chest, trying to calm him. She could feel his heart beating hard under his thick, grayish skin. "I'm sorry, I know, she's a tough subject. But hey, it's okay."

Helena could feel his heartbeat slowing down slightly. "Leon, it's okay. You're still you, and I'm here to help." He worked his way back into a crouch, and she moved her arms around his neck. His arms worked their way around her body as well, and they embraced. His wings draped on the floor next to them. And it was okay, for now, at least, it was okay.

_Based on impalallama's infected!Leon on tumblr._


	2. Sherry

_A/N: I don't plan on writing a whole "story" around this infected!Leon AU, but I do enjoy this AU and will probably continue to write oneshots. For this reason, I'll list this as "ongoing," but each individual oneshot can be considered complete. I hope this works for you dudes! Thanks for reading and stuff._

Sherry felt a bit of a burning inside of her chest when Helena let it slip that she was keeping Leon and wasn't telling her where he was. She thought about it when she was sleeping, for nights, and waited, waited for her chance to see him.

When she had seen him, she had been terrified at first, because in seeing him in his new form, she was sure that she had lost him, just as she had lost others before. Soon, though, she was able to see in him _Leon_, not just the virus that was within him. He was still there, inside of that monstrous body, and he still cared.

She had been able to spend her time with him, and visit him, and she was so happy to have him, but she couldn't help but feel that there was something about him, something that made her feel regret. What if there was a way for her to have stopped what had happened? Why did this happen to people that were connected to her? Why did these viruses have to be around in the first place? She had a hard time keeping a straight face while these sorts of thoughts flew through her brain.

When she stroked Leon's wing and tried to update him on what was going on in her life, she had felt like there was something distinctly not _him_ about him, and that scared her. There were two constants in her life, people that she was able to hold onto as her safety, and those were the two people who had saved her all the way back in Raccoon City. They had rescued her, and she had always felt that if need be, they could do it again. They always stayed as they had been in Sherry's mind: young, strong, and protective. They were the antithesis of her father, especially after his transformation.

And now, Leon was a victim of this viral infection, and he was no longer that young, naïve twenty-one year old who had saved her back in Raccoon City. He was this _thing_, and it unsettled her to think about. She kept on a good face for him while she was there, but she could not push the wrongness of it all out of her mind when she was at home, and alone.

Sherry was asleep, and she tossed and she turned. Her mind pushed itself in and out of deep sleep, but she was finally able to collapse into REM sleep, and her mind wandered.

She was back in Raccoon City. There was a stink in the air, the smell of burning _things_: cars, buildings, rubble. She could hear the screams of citizens and the moans of the infected around her, but she could not see any of them. The sky was dark and was tinted with red, with few stars permeating. There was a city bus on its side nearby, and she felt her hip for her gun, but there was no holster. She wasn't wearing any of the clothes that she was used to wearing. She was wearing a sailor suit, and she remembered putting it on that morning, that morning years ago…

That was when she saw the first of them. They were coming from the direction of the overturned bus, crawling, staggering, dragging themselves toward her, moaning like they always did. She stifled a scream and reminded herself of her training. She wasn't a little girl. She was not, anymore. She turned and found her way into the closest building.

She immediately recognized the place as the Raccoon City Police Department. She treaded carefully, her shoes causing loud, cracking reverberations on the tile floor. It was quiet in there, otherwise, and that unsettled her. She opened a door in the wall, not even realizing that she was at it, and found herself in a small foyer at the bottom of a stairwell. She started toward the stairs when she heard the slurping noises from behind her.

She turned her head and she saw the licker, its exposed brain dripping with a moist slime. Its long tongue flicked back and forth as it bared its pointy teeth. A low, guttural growl escaped from its mouth. Sherry took a few steps backward, softly treading. She felt vulnerable without a weapon, and she tried to remember how she was supposed to deal with the lickers. They could not see, because their eyes were mutated beneath their enormous brains. She just had to be quiet, carefully backing away…

She backed into a bookshelf, causing it to tip precariously back and forth. She frantically grabbed it, trying to steady it, and she was successful, but not before a book had fallen from it and thudded to the ground. Her eyes whipped to the creature, and it took a step toward her. She gasped, and it began moving more quickly. She turned and dashed up the stairs, away from it, moving as quickly as her legs would take her. She found herself in a hallway at the top of the stairs and threw herself into the first door that she could find, quickly slamming it behind her.

She breathed in big gulps of breath, trying to recover from running up the stairs, and trying to manage her heartbeat into something more normal, to recover from the terror. She remembered her training, and forced herself to take long, deep breathes instead of the short gasps she had been allowing herself. She soon caught her breath. It was then when she realized that she was no longer in the Raccoon City Police Department. She was in a small room with a fireplace, a desk, and a tea set on a small table between two chairs. There was a door on one wall. She remembered this room, from somewhere, but she couldn't remember where… maybe something that Claire had said? She couldn't place it.

She could hear the licker scratching at the door and she went to the other door in the room. Whatever was beyond it couldn't be as bad as what was behind the other door, she decided, and she went through it.

She was in a tower room, in a castle of some sort, and she could hear chanting off in the distance. It was colder, much colder than it had been in the Police Department or in the tea set room. It was dark, and the air smelled of autumn. Sherry drew her arms around her and crept through the strange room, looking down the balcony to the medieval-looking throne room below. She could her heartbeat quickening to match the rhythmic chant that she could hear, and she began to get more terrified. This room seemed familiar as well, but she had never been there before. She had _heard _of it that was all. From who, she couldn't place.

There was a door on the other side of the balcony that she seemed to be standing on and she walked toward it. She could hear the chanting, and she could feel it getting closer, and she couldn't imagine what it meant. She did know that the licker wouldn't be held back by the door for long. She opened the other door and entered, finding herself on a stairway, which she ascended.

She walked up it, slowly, taking her time and being careful. The last thing that she wanted to do was to trip down the stairs into the waiting jaws of the licker, when it inevitably made its way into the castle room. She looked upward and could not make out an end to the stairway, and could only see it going into the darkness. Below, she could only see the same.

A thud came from below her, and she felt a leap in her heart. She looked down at it, straining her eyes to see if she could make out what it was below her, but she could see nothing. Full of terror, she turned and made a break for the top of the stairs. She felt like she was running forever, her thighs burning with effort. She finally found her way to a plain gray door and burst through it.

She was on the Raccoon City Police Department roof. She could see the small fires burning throughout the city, and she could see the small fire on the back of the Department itself, where a helicopter had made a collision with the building. She took a step toward it and stopped herself. She felt a familiar weight around her chest and saw that she was no longer wearing her sailor outfit, as she had all of those years ago, but she was wearing her usual field wear, complete with her holster and handgun, which she drew immediately.

Sherry could hear the sounds of the city all around her. She could hear the fires, she could hear the sound of a couple of gunshots in the distance. She could not, however, hear any screams. She went to the edge of the building and looked down, and could see a few of the infected staggering around in the courtyard and the street. She took a step back and saw that the roof access door, which she had come through, was now not there. She was trapped on the roof.

Sherry held her handgun in a shaking hand and pointed it over the edge of the roof and down at the infected below, but could not push herself to fire. She instead brought the gun around and pressed it against her own temple. Tears welled up in her eyes and she shut them tight and pulled the trigger.

There was no gun in her hand. She opened her eyes, and there was no gun there. Was there ever any gun? She could have sworn that there was. More tears fell from her eyes. She looked around her, and she felt at her holster. There was no gun in it, and she was left without a weapon, again. She turned to the edge of the building, and she looked down again at the infected below. There seemed to be congregating, as if they were waiting for something, as if they were expecting something.

She got up onto the edge of the building, and she faced away from the building. She let her arms go limp, and she took a deep breath. Then, she let the rest of her body go limp, and fall forward.

Her body jerked to a stop, and her arm was pulled upward. She looked, and through the blur of her tears, she could see the form of a familiar person.

"Leon?" she asked. She used her free arm to wipe tears from her eyes. It was Leon, but not as she had thought she saw him. He was there in his full infected form, with claws, and meaty wings, and sharp fangs. His large claw-like hand was wrapped around her small hand, and his other claw was latched onto the ledge of the rooftop. He looked down at her, something sad in his otherwise empty-seeming eyes.

He gave a big haul, and lifted her upward, into his arms, and pulled her back onto the roof. He pulled her tight to him, and she wrapped her arms around him. He felt strange, different than he did when he was human, but he was warm, and he was Leon. Her tears dripped onto his chest, but she smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, as well.

She awoke and sat up in bed. She could feel the tears on her face, and it took her a moment to realize that she was not on a rooftop, but in her bed. Her heart slowed to its normal pace, and she reached for her cell phone, and dialed. "Helena," she whispered, wiping away her tears with her arm as she spoke. "I need to see Leon, soon, I need to."

_Based off of impalallama's art on tumblr: post/73189641217/yay-finally-some-au-sketches_


	3. Leon

There was a rain, and it pitter-pattered on the thick, strong canvas of Leon's wing. He lifted his face to the sky, and let some of the rain drip through the flop of hair that covered one of his eyes. He liked the feeling of being outside. Most of his time he spent cooped up in the warehouse. It wasn't that he didn't like it—Helena had done her best making sure that he had everything that he needed. Still, staying there, cooped up all of the time could be a little boring.

The rain, and the dark: it reminded him of the many missions he had been on in those same conditions. It always seemed so bleak and, sometimes (though Leon would never admit this to himself) even scary. Now, though, he wasn't scared. He wasn't sure why, but his hunch was that he wasn't so scared about the things that go bump in the night because he _was_ one of those things.

Leon look off in a run, down the old state highway he was standing on the side of, and leapt with his powerful legs. His wings flapped out after he was in the air, and then the wind and rain caught in them, propelling him upward.

There was a cloud cover to shroud the stars, but that was alright. Leon could see better at night now, and he didn't really need the starlight to make his way around; he could navigate just fine. He could see a mouse scurry under a long below him. It was tiny, barely detectable, but he could see it. He could do all sorts of things, now that he was infected.

He glided down to the ground and went into a crouch. He wasn't able to fly, or, more accurately, glide, for very long. The rain beat down on the wings that he wrapped around himself. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was content with his body as it was. He would have preferred his old body, _his_ body, but he could live with this. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, and he was lucky to have his own mind, at least, most of the time.

What he really wished, though, was that he could _help_ again. Helena was other there, Sherry was, Chris, Jill, all of them—they were doing _something_, and he was doing what? Nothing. He wanted to be out _there_, but the U.S. government didn't strictly know he existed anymore, and the folks of the BSAA had said that they needed some time for him to adjust, and for the others to adjust. It had been hard for Sherry, and she knew him. For an organization of people formed to stop things like him to accept him as an ally would take a while, at best. He felt the rain and looked up to the sky, where he still saw nothing. He was outside, yes, but he still felt pent up. There was a time when he had to beg for a vacation. Now, he just wanted to go back to work.

For now, though, all he could do was enjoy the tiny drumbeats made by the raindrops on his wings.


	4. Leon - Sherry - Helena

Leon pushed his wings upward, creating a canopy above him. He bared his teeth. Sherry took a step back, but Helena just rolled her eyes. "You big baby," she said.

Leon let out a grunt, but lowered his wings again. The cloudiness in his eyes began to clear up a bit. Sherry took a step forward, aligning herself with Helena. She knew it was Leon, she loved him even under all of that, but that didn't stop her from being intimidated by his hulking form.

"Look—they're just not sure that they're ready to have a bioweapon working with them…" said Helena. Leon cut her off with a growl. Helena scowled.

"Leon…" said Sherry.

"The BSAA is an anti-bioterrorism organization—what would it look like if you, a bioweapon, started working _with_ them?" Helena placed her hand on Leon's shoulder. "I asked the president but he didn't want your service. I mean, it's understandable, considering what you did to the last one…" Leon growled. "…so the BSAA is our only bet if you want to get back out into the field."

Leon turned around and skulked back over to the pathetic little bed that was set up for him. He sat on it, causing a loud screech as his wings rested on the mattress behind him. Helena took a step toward him, but Sherry put up a hand, signaling for her to stop. She did, and Sherry went over to Leon. She gently sat next to him on the bed, not next to his wings, but inside of them, next to _him_.

"Leon…" she said, placing her hand on his thigh and looking up into his eyes. She couldn't see anything in them, but that meant that she didn't see the feral cloudiness that frightened her so much. It was _then_, when he _wasn't_ Leon, when she was afraid. That's what the BSAA was afraid of, as well.

"Sherry…" uttered Leon. The voice came from way down in his throat, unlike any sort of noise that a human would make, but Sherry could recognize it as his. It was _him_, not the virus, that was there with her.

"I know that you're restless," said Sherry, "but this is going to take some time." She took her hand off of his leg and rubbed her arm. "They want you, and they want to work with you, but it's going to take time. They need to adjust, so that they can be ready for you. Right now they just… aren't."

Leon broke the eye contact and looked around the room. He had explored every inch of it, spending his time here, alone. He knew the rafters of the warehouse, he knew all of the crevices and intricacies of the place. His eyes fell on Helena. She physically hadn't changed much at all since he had first met her. What had changed in her wasn't physical. When he spoke to her, or when she spoke to him, he could tell she was simultaneously the same person and somebody completely new.

It was as if he was the complete opposite.

"I know," said Leon. His eyes turned from Helena to Sherry. She had changed so much since he had first met her, and yet she didn't seem different at all to him. She was the same little girl, the same girl from Raccoon City all of those years ago. She was the same girl, even if she was all grown up and fighting bioterrorism, just like her heroes…

"Chris is trying to do the same thing with Piers," said Helena. "And I'm sure that with all of us working together…"

Sherry picked up where Helena dropped off. "All we have to do is convince them that you really haven't changed. You're still the same _you_."

"I am," said Leon, affirming and defending himself.

"You are, and we know that," said Sherry, wrapping her arm around him. He tightened his arm around her shoulder and his wing around her back instinctively. "We just need to make sure that know that, too."

Helena strode over to them and put her hand on the top of Leon's wing, and their eyes met. "You will be out there soon enough," she said. "You're Leon Scott Kennedy. You _belong_ out there."


	5. Training

"Leon…" sighed Helena, pulling the ropes off of him. "I appreciate your dedication, but you're not really built for the ropes course." The netted ropes he had been trying to climb over were tangled all around him, binding him tight. He had been leaping around, training on his own while Helena had been at the shooting range. She realized how ridiculous he looked and silently thanked God that it was a Sunday afternoon, and many of the B.S.A.A. agents had gone home until tomorrow.

Leon gave out a little cry, and Helena realized that one of his large, fleshy wings was caught up in a few ropes. She maneuvered her way over to him, trying to pull back on the ropes as she went, to not have them pull even harder on Leon, as he was still caught up in them.

"I understand that you feel like you need to prove yourself," said Helena, "but even a B.O.W. needs to get some rest every once in a while." She pulled op the rope just enough to get her knife underneath it. She sawed for a moment, being sure not to cut him as she went, until the rope broke into two frayed ends.

"Not a weapon," said Leon, grunting as he thrust his wing out of the bind.

"Whatever you want to call yourself," said Helena. "You can't just push yourself forever. You have your limits."

"I'm too clumsy," muttered Leon, tugging at one of his legs, which had more than one rope wrapped around it. He groaned.

"The B.S.A.A. is going to bitch me out about this course," she said. "They're going to wonder why we had to destroy all of it, when we were using it, and ruin it for everyone else." Leon gave her a look.

"I destroyed…"

"Save it," said Helena. "We're in this B.S.A.A. thing together. Don't try to say that we aren't."

"Didn't ask."

"You _wouldn't_ ask. But I am just as much about this as you are, as much as you want to be a mysterious loner," said Helena. She cut loose the last rope that was holding back his leg, and stepped back. "I mean…"

Helena was cut off as Leon, pinwheeling his arms as he was set off-balance when freed from the ropes, slashed with his flailing claw across his partner's face and neck. She choked back her words and put her hands to her throat, trying to put pressure on the wound before she lost too much blood.

Leon's eyes were wide as he watched the blood pour from his partner—blood that matched the blood on his own hand. He tugged himself free, ripping some of the ropes clear from the course, where they were tied down. He was so careful, as he went, to not jostle Helena, who had stumbled downward into a sitting position. Leon tore the last of the ropes from his body and saw the blood that had totally stained the front and side of Helena's shirt, and was running down her arms, despite her attempts to keep the blood inside.

"Helena!" he said, and made a move toward her, but she shooed him away with her elbow. Shifting herself, she reached with one hand—the other held firmly to her face and throat—up to pull herself to her feet using what was left of the ropes course around them. Once on her feet, she staggered forward, but the world went to photonegative before her eyes. She swayed a bit, and before she could try to shoo him away again, Leon was there, offering his arm to hold onto, to steady her.

"Carry you to medic?" ask Leon, his eyes trained on the place on Helena from which she seemed unable to stop the blood from flowing.

"No," she squeaked out, blood coming with the barely-spoken word. She pressed harder on the wound, concentrating more on the throat wound than the ones on her face—they were much less likely to be fatal.

Leon bounded ahead of her once she seemed to be able to walk on her own, glancing at the emergency phone set into the wall of the gymnasium, near the door. He reached out, and realized that his claws would make dealing with the phone virtually impossible. Helena couldn't speak, so if she picked up the phone, she wouldn't be much use, either. He looked back to his partner, and rushed back to her side, his wings flaring up behind him as he went. He offered his arm, and at first, she didn't take it for support. He offered it a second time, and she took it, her hand tentatively hovering in contact with his leathery skin.

They had almost made it to the door, slowly walking with a trail of blood dripping from Helena behind them, when the door opened. Standing in the frame was a wide-eyed agent, wearing workout clothes, headphone sin his ears, water bottle in his hand. It fell to the ground when he saw the B.O.W. new recruit holding a bloodied agent in front of him. He saw the blood on the agent, and the blood on the monster, and the put the story together in his brain. He caught Leon's eyes, and knew that one of them would have to make the next move.

Rather than let the monster get the upper hand, the agent dove to the right, to where the emergency phone was inset to the wall. The monster didn't dart after him right away—he carefully made sure that the wounded agent could stand before leaving her and walking to him.

The agent pulled the phone from its cradle and held it to his face. "We have a code red: Agent K has attacked another agent—full biohazard back up requested—I repeat, Agent K has attacked another agent." His eyes followed the B.O.W. as it moved toward him, its hands up in surrender—or attack. The agent wished he had a weapon on him, but he was completely vulnerable. He held onto the phone, maybe thinking he could potentially use it as a club, now that he had finished his transmission.

"Accident," said the B.O.W., Agent K, gesturing to the bleeding woman, who was still moving toward them. "I tripped—truth."

The agent narrowed his eyes at Agent K, but let them flit to the woman behind him. She wavered on her feet, and went to her knees. The B.O.W. turned and immediately went to her, almost leaping in its haste. It cupped the wounded woman in its arms, and made eye contact with the agent. "Medic," it half-roared. The woman tried to readjust her hand on her neck wound, and Agent K placed his claw over her hand, carefully helping her to apply pressure.

The agent kept his eyes on the two of them for a moment, and realized that the B.O.W.'s wings weren't raised to be threatening—they were something on an instinctive protective barrier between the woman and anything that might harm her. He may have hurt the woman, but Agent K was trying to _protect_ her. The agent pulled the phone piece back to his face and pressed a button on the wall next to the cradle, re-opening the line.

"Callback on the previous call—I need a medic—I repeat, no backup, a medic. Do not engage with the B.O.W.—he is friendly." He placed the phone back in the cradle. He walked over to Leon, who held the barely-conscious Helena in his arms, keeping pressure on her wounds.

"Can I see her?" asked the agent. For a moment, Leon's lip drew up, bearing his teeth, but then, his expression softened, and he allowed the agent to get to his partner. They maneuvered her so that she was in the agent's lap, where he used his T-shirt to begin bandaging her wounds.

Before too long, the doors to the gymnasium opened again, and a medical team rushed in, escorted by some armed B.S.A.A. agents. The med team gingerly lifted Helena onto a stretcher to remove her from the gym. The armed agents were talked down by the first agent, who had called it in, as they ushered Leon away from Helena.

She was shortly wheeled away from him, her eyes locked on his, his eyes locked on the bloody tears in her face.


End file.
